Back In January
by November Rain 19
Summary: A Yamato/Sora story. Also an adaptation of a fellow author's poem. Summary: We all long to return to those moments in our lives that seemed perfect...


Back In January Notes: The idea for this was not mine. It was inspired by a beautiful poem written by a fellow author. Go and read his work, you will not be disappointed. He has graciously given me permission to turn his poem into a story. I hope to the PTB that I did it some kind of justice. 

I had a tough time picking the couple, since I'm partial to just about anything. Yamato/Sora turned out to be the winner. This is from Yamato's POV. I didn't change very much from the original, just sort of fleshed it out a bit.   


Back in January 

original by The Gatekeeper   
adaptation by Melissa 

  
  


Back in January, everything was perfect. 

Perfect. It's a word we use to define so few things. Usually, as a general rule, nothing ever achieves perfection. 

Except for January. 

I watched the snow fall from the sky. The landscape was dotted with barren trees, looking very much like skeleton hands reaching towards the heavens for something unattainable. The flakes were huge, so much so that one might mistake them for not being real. They were delicate, yet incredibly soft looking. My mother used to call them 'little pillows.' The snow would alight upon my cheek, as cool and soft as the pillow when you first fall into bed at night. I guess that is why she called them that. Millions of them fell from the sky and covered the ground in an unbelievably short time. 

When I was little, Mom and I would get all bundled up and go outside, playing for hours until we couldn't feel the tips of our noses. Just before we would go in for hot chocolate, we would make snow angels. She would hold my hand and say that the angels were having pillow fights as we were lying on our backs, staring at the sky. I could see it in my mind. Great winged beings swinging at one another with all their might. The victims from their war would fall gently to the earth. 

Many a winter has passed since that time. The first snow of the season would always bring a smile to my face. 

Although this year, I'm not sure if it will. 

It has not snowed yet, but the sky is a mixture of greys swirling together, heralding the approach of a winter storm. It won't be the same as seasons past, for a variety of reasons. 

Mother was very sick this year and knew she would not live to see another winter. She wanted so badly to see the snow one last time. She was so strong, but time had taken it's toll upon her. 

She died on a Tuesday at the beginning of fall. She always loved the changing colors of the leaves, but her first love will always be the snow. I hope she has fun this winter, where ever she is. I chuckle slightly thinking about the angels and their pillow fights again. They better watch out, or she'll show them how it's done. 

My thoughts return to when I was little once more. Most specifically I think of the girl that I love. She has auburn hair that shown like silk and crimson eyes that burned with love. We've been best friends since the world was flat.* 

Time stood still as we played in our winter wonderland. Tumbling down hills, and swinging each other around until we could barely breathe. Our favorite game was seeing who could make the weirdest snow person. It usually ended up being a tie because we both had some pretty strange ideas. 

Sora's a kindred spirit, someone who understands me in ways no one else can. It is one of the countless reasons why I loved her, and still do. Caring, sweet and adorable, were just some of her many qualities that only grew with time. She was good at anything and everything. She made an apple pie to die for. 

Mom always thought of Sora as a daughter. They often shared a knowing look with one another that no one else could possibly fathom. Mother was very influential in our finally getting together. We were afraid for awhile of becoming more than just friends. The love was there, but it was kept company by the fear of losing what we all ready had together. I'm not quite sure who over came the fear first, but in the end we conquered it. We became a couple three winters ago. Mom would constantly tell me, 'Yamato, never let her go.' 

And I never thought I'd have to. 

Back in January, everything was perfect. I had both my mother and my love. 

And now I have neither. 

Sora became an artist and was offered a job overseas. She begged and pleaded for me to go with her. Every fiber of my being was screaming yes. 

I could not though. Circumstances were keeping me from her. I was so very sorry. 

I remember the look on her face as she boarded the plane. Pain and sorrow etched upon her delicate features just like the paint upon her canvases 

It has only been a few months since she left, but every second feels like an eternity to me. I cannot stay here any longer. 

Yesterday, I was offered a promotion. They said it was a reward for my dedication to my work. I felt sick when I heard those words, because my beloved was not there to share my achievement with me. 

I quit my job yesterday. I walked into my boss's office and said simply, "I would rather choose three years of love over another five years in a cubicle." Quite honestly, I expected a shouting and screaming reaction. How could I do that to the company after what they had given me? 

The yelling and screaming never came though. My boss looked at me with a mixture of understanding and empathy. His eyes told me that he'd been there before. He shook my hand and wished me the best of luck. 

I spent Christmas alone this year. It still hasn't snowed yet this season. Perhaps mother nature realizes that I have no one to share it with. There are no ornaments on the tree or mistletoe in the hallway. It was truly the worst Christmas of my life. 

Some time has passed and New Year's Eve is tomorrow. Out with the old and in with the new. The last day of the year before we get a chance to wipe the slate clean and start over. 

And I will not forsake that chance. 

I will not be staying here, not any longer. I put the house up for sale, severing the final tie to this place. 

I stand in the doorway one last time, surveying the empty rooms. On the counter is a single plane ticket. My destination is France, and the arms of my soul mate. 

In my pocket is a small black box, containing therein a ring. She will never see this coming. 

After one last look I grab my ticket and turn to leave. 

Maybe I will be smiling this winter. 

In January. 

Let's hope it snows.   


The End   


More Notes: The most sincere thanks go out to my friend for both his permission and his trust. You've succeeded in inspiring me when my muses couldn't. 

* Line taken from 'Demons, Angels and the End of the World.' (another of The Gatekeeper's works.) I just love the sentiment. I think we all have a best friend we've known since the world was flat.   


". . . the sharpest-sighted hunter in the universe is Love for finding what it seeks, and only that." - Ralph Waldo Emerson 

"Perhaps they were right in putting love into books... perhaps it could not live anywhere else." - William Faulkner   
  
  
  



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